


not for the first time

by lvl50skogsfru



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Don't post to another site!, M/M, Pining, Rating is for later chapters, estinien doesn't know how to acknowledge feelings, random bits and pieces that might go together idk, sparring as sexual tension?, summary is from a later chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvl50skogsfru/pseuds/lvl50skogsfru
Summary: The few times Estinien had graced people with his presence outside of battle or ‘necessity’ could have been counted on his fingers, though even as the thought crosses his mind he wonders when he stopped counting humoring Aymeric as necessary and instead considered it to be something he wanted to do. Perhaps even something enjoyable.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. someone equal

**Author's Note:**

> hi i have little to say except they give me feelings and i wanted to write some low effort brain worm things about them
> 
> also i accidentally changed the pov before i meant to but didn't feel like fixing it so i'm sorry

The sharp crack of a nose being punched and dislocated resounded throughout the area, and with it the abrupt cry of pain from the recruit who had suffered it followed close behind. Such things weren’t exactly misplaced on the training field, however the dragoon who had caused the injury wasn’t quite your average man to see there, and someone prone to not holding back even during practice brawls. The result of the battle prompted a few people to shake their heads and a few others to all call for healers to check on the man sprawled in the dirt once they had separated Estinien from him.

Having walked up just in time to see the end of the scuffle, Aymeric approached his friend cautiously; aware of the scowl in place on his face and the aggressive energy he carried from being interrupted. The light haired elezen was muttering about how if he couldn’t keep fighting after a punch he needed to train more, but of course no one was listening to him at that moment. 

Aymeric wasn’t sure he exactly disagreed, but now was hardly the time.

“Estinien,” he started, fingers grabbing at the training tunic his friend was wearing and using his surprise to tug him backwards. “Training matches aren’t meant to end in the medic’s tent, you know.”

“Pray tell how anyone will get better if they are not pushed?” Estinien grumbled back as he fidgeted in Aymeric’s hold. “He’s lucky he did not end up worse, as distracted as he was.”

Aymeric relented his grip only for Estinien to immediately turn away and head off towards the practice weapon racks at the end of all the training areas. “Would seem not all of us are as capable of single minded determination as yourself.” He replied, following despite the look Estinien shot him over his shoulder. “Mind you, I agree. But not everyone else does, and I would hate to see you punished simply for going what they consider to be too far.” He watched as his friend placed the wooden lance back with more gentleness than was probably required of him. When the next words came from his mouth it was with a barely repressed smile. “Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to seek out sparring partners who are more.. Up to your level. Or at least willing to accept the wounds you may inflict.”

Estinien scoffed. “I know you don’t have much time to make it down here anymore, Ser, but tell me one such person who you know of.” He fixed the darker haired elezen with a challenging stare, confident in his belief that there were none, apparently, and Aymeric forced himself to ignore the slight jab in the statement.

“Well, it just so happens I do know of one.”

“Oh? I’m eagerly awaiting your enlightenment, Lord Commander.”

The dry, sarcastic tone of Estinien’s voice prompted Aymeric to immediately shrug off his outer coat and toss it towards a nearby table, entirely unconcerned with the dirt covering it, before moving onto his black jacket underneath it. Estinien watched, face varying between confusion and uncertainty as his friend was left in nothing but his blue tunic; clothing entirely too thin to be worn out here, but it hardly stopped Aymeric from adjusting his sword at his waist and the proud, smug look on his face.

“Come. Let’s fight.”

Estinien stared- probably for longer than was appropriate. Finally he managed to work out words, though they sounded rougher than he had intended them to. “I do not wish to have an angry mob of people at my throat for damaging their Lord Commander.”

Aymeric made a noise. “I guess I’ll just have to not be ‘damaged’ then.”

It probably wasn’t a bad idea. Probably. At least, not one that he should definitely turn down. What was the worst that could happen? They used to spar all the time, after all.

“Fine then. But I will not go easy on you.”

The dark haired elezen’s lips quirked into a smirk and Estinien suddenly had the feeling that he was getting himself into something he would sorely regret.

“I do not wish you to.”

\------------

It didn’t take much time for Estinien to conclude that yes, that tiny little feeling had been correct, and yes, this had been a very bad idea.

He realizes this when Aymeric takes him to the center of the training field and orders everyone else off. He realizes again when Aymeric’s sword gets knocked away, followed by his lance being kicked out of his grip as retaliation. And he realizes once more when, having turned into a toussle, Aymeric eventually pins him to the cold dirt with one knee firmly on his sternum and the other near his hip- leg draped across his to keep him down.

“Do you yield?” Aymeric asks, staring down at him as if he weren’t his friend but simply another lowborn, hardly worth the time of  _ Ser Aymeric De Borel _ \- and he knows he’s out of breath from the fight, but the triumphant shine in the other man’s eyes is threatening to steal what he has left.

It isn’t the first time he’s felt confusing things for his friend. But it is the first time he’s had no way to shove it aside at once and ignore it.

He thinks about the recruit he had punched, how being distracted was probably his undoing.

Estinien lays his head back in the dirt, going lax and sighing in the hopes of calming his racing blood.

With Aymeric around, who  _ wouldn’t _ be distracted?

“I yield.”

As Aymeric moves off of him he feels a strange… distaste for the loss of pressure, the missing warmth too. It doesn’t help that as he stands he becomes aware of just how many people had been watching, and how many were in total silence as they pretended not to be.

Finally, one of the commanders clears his throat and orders everyone back to practice, and Estinien briefly feels hope that perhaps they’ll actually train seriously now after watching himself and Aymeric spar.

“Are you alright?” Aymeric asks, voice gentle but tired, face flushed in the aftermath of the fight. “Do you want a healer?”

Estinien grunts. “I’m fine. Nothing that won’t be better in a few days.” Still, he can’t stop his eyes from tracing his friend and looking to see if he had suffered anything that looked too serious. “You should have them look at the wound on your side. I suppose I should apologize but you did invite it.”

As if he had forgotten about it, Aymeric reaches to touch, face visibly falling at the press of blood. “Ah. No need to apologize, but you are right. Shall I find you after I’m finished there?”

“Mhm. I’ll be heading back to Ishgard, so-”

“Then the Forgotten Knight. Hm?”

Estinen hates crowds almost as much as he hates seeing the blood still seeping onto Aymeric’s tunic, and it’s for that reason alone that he agrees, only to watch until Aymeric makes it to the healer’s tent before sighing and turning to collect their training weapons.


	2. someone safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Estinien makes a couple brief internal comments about Aymeric's drinking/how much he might drink*

The few times Estinien had graced people with his presence outside of battle or ‘necessity’ could have been counted on his fingers, though even as the thought crosses his mind he wonders when he stopped counting humoring Aymeric as necessary and instead considered it to be something he wanted to do. Perhaps even something enjoyable.

For the most part.

He could do without the noise, the drunkards acting like children, the inevitable brawls, but for whatever reason Aymeric seemed relieved in those moments when the two of them could sit and talk, when the burdens of the day could be put aside temporarily. Though he was horrible at hiding just how much it affected him. 

Or perhaps Estinien was just that good at reading him.

_ Ridiculous.  _ Estinien scoffed, staring down at the tables and crowd below, hands on the railing on the small balcony. The door to the Forgotten Knight opens behind him, and with it comes a blessed rush of cold air from the evening snowstorm passing through outside, chilling his skin through the low necked shirt he had worn. Packed as the tavern is, he’s already grateful for his earlier foresight. 

_ And yet _ -

And yet. Even among the people, Aymeric stands out. Not for the fact he’s wearing anything recognizable- he isn’t; just a simple dark, long jacket-  _ grey, complimenting his bright blue eyes _ \- and boots that have faded creases from years of being worn. But what draws the eye is the way he stands, at the end of the bar, against a wall, not doing anything to hide but making it clear he isn’t seeking company. But still there are groups of women eyeing him, whispering, and some men as well (though Estinien can’t discern if it’s with similar  _ intent _ or not). 

Estinien’s attention lands on him easily. Always first.

He chooses not to think about it.

_ Familiarity, that’s all. _

He only realizes he’s still staring when Aymeric looks up at him, and the shift in his expression is so immediate and suddenly open. Estinien isn’t sure what to make of the feeling it leaves behind.

_ You’re being foolish. _

Aymeric is safe. Aymeric is smart, and capable. Estinien trusts him.

That’s all, he repeats, walking down the stairs, merging into the crowd, slipping past people with barely a glance. 

“My friend.” Aymeric greets once he’s in range, voice friendly and warm, a harsh contrast to the Ishgardian weather and the reception Estinien is so used to receiving. “I had begun to wonder if you were simply going to loom up there all night.” and he gestures at the loft even though it isn’t necessary, for Estinien knows exactly what he meant. He just hadn’t expected Aymeric to admit he had been aware and waiting.

“It’s crowded tonight.” the dragoon grumbles as an excuse.

Aymeric hums, grin broadening in Estinien’s peripheral vision, but doing nothing to hide the exhaustion on his face. “Aye, must be the weather.” Even in the low lighting the slight flush to his cheekbones is obvious-  _ he’s been here longer than he wants to let on-  _ telling more about his thoughts than anyone else might be able to discern.

Estinien accepts a glass of something handed to him by Gibrillont, assuming Aymeric had instructed him to do so when he arrived, then leans on the counter to taste it. It’s strong, and slightly warm, and he tells Aymeric as much. The dark haired Elezen raises an eyebrow at him. “You guessed well.” Estinien continued.

“Oh-” Aymeric chokes out, swallowing down the rest of his own glass. “-it wasn’t me who guessed that one.” The humor in his voice is unmistakable, so much so that the excess has traveled up to his eyes. 

“Then thank Gibrillont next time he comes by to give you another.”  _ Though I should probably cut you off before you drown yourself too far. _

“I believe you’re still mistaken,” 

Aymeric jerks his head towards the other side of the bar, then immediately ducks away as if it’ll hide his wide smile. Estinien’s gaze slides in the indicated direction, eyebrows furrowing. He finds the assumed target by the way she is glancing in their direction over her shoulder, but faces away completely when they make eye contact. He can’t see much of her over the bar and around the people surrounding her on all sides- a group of friends, no doubt- aside from her hair, which is long and dark. And she’s Elezen, but not dressed like she’s from Ishgard.

Estinien slowly turns back to Aymeric. His companion is still smirking at him, and he scoffs again. “I change my mind. You’re an insufferable bastard.”

“You wound me.” Aymeric laughed. “I’m simply trying to encourage you.”

“Encourage me to what? Make a fool of myself?”

“I think you’re more capable of doing the opposite than you think, Estinien.”

It’s curiosity that makes him ask, rather than dismissing the topic and moving on to something less uncertain. “And what would that be, pray tell?”

The Lord Commander makes a gesture akin to one that usually comes with the words ‘you know’, but when Estinien doesn’t say anything he elaborates. “You can’t be that unawares about the kind of attention you receive, surely…" when his voice trails off, Estinien shrugs, and Aymeric shakes his head. "I see. I suppose it would be best just to say that I believe you are… rather  _ admired. _ I know with your quest for Nidhogg, these things are surely the last on your mind. However I don't believe it would exactly be a bad thing for you to consider it."

Feeling a bit like everyone around was listening and staring, Estinien put his hand over his face and stared at the floor. "You cannot possibly be suggesting I try  _ flirting _ -"

"Well, I suppose, but-"

"We both know how that would go, Aymeric."

"Yes, but-"

"And you're right." Estinien held out a hand to stop Aymeric from talking again. "I'm not interested."

"Not at all?" Estinien shook his head. "There has never been someone who made you...curious?"

_ Yes- _

"No."

He thinks on that, focusing on his drink and trying to ignore the look he knows Aymeric is giving him. What Aymeric is implying- it isn't as if he's never considered what it might be like-  _ quiet, calm nights, spent with someone you trust, no fear of losing them to a war _ \- 

“This is ridiculous.” Estinien muttered. “If you’re so amused perhaps  _ you  _ should go talk to her.”

Aymeric let out a short laugh. “Mayhaps, instead, it is for the best that we both concede. Neither of us are suited for romance, it would seem. Me for my responsibilities and you for your stubbornness.” Estinien knows he’s being teased but even if he was actually being insulted he’s not sure he’d care anymore, not now that Aymeric’s hand has found a way onto his shoulder and is patting him.  _ Bare fingertips, skin on skin, this shirt is too thin because the warmth of his hand is too much- _ “Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.” Aymeric continues, glancing at him and Estinien takes a deep breath before looking back. The blue of Aymeric’s eyes is warmed by the light of the tavern, warmer still for how pleased he looks gazing at the dragoon.

A huff of breath, and Estinien leans into the touch, seeking more-  _ Greedy. So greedy _ .

“Looks like it.”


	3. someone enthralling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been awhile. sorry it's short. i divided my original chapter 3 into two parts. hopefully the next one is worth the wait. this week has been really bad for me, im not doing great. writing is distracting.

Fingers wrapped around a wine glass, eyes downcast and eyelashes sweeping over his cheekbones, Aymeric looks the picture of calm and put together that Estinien expects from him. The slight, polite smile gracing his lips as he listens and occasionally comments back to another one of the tittering nobles around him looks so forced and yet familiar, and the realization that he can now tell when Aymeric is putting on a facade for them rings some kind of unsettling weight in Estinien’s chest.

Instead of thinking about it, however, he resolves to do what he does best with these strange thoughts. He ignores it, and he trudges over to the table full of fancy snacks to find something to hopefully distract himself with.

The room, which was loud with many, many conversations and voices, suddenly fills with music- the soft, annoyingly predictable kind that is so commonly heard around Ishgard, and is followed by people all over the space leading each other into the large dance floor in the center. Unbidden, Estinien’s gaze settles on Aymeric as he leads a girl probably a year or two younger than them to dance as well. His stomach turns irritably, fingers twitching.

“Ridiculous.” he sighs into a glass of wine snagged from a passing waiter. It wasn’t Aymeric’s fault he caught the attention of women looking for a handsome husband, nor was it his fault their fathers pushed them onto him in an attempt to gain favour with the Lord Commander. No, the one to be annoyed with was himself for feeling childishly- he thinks, even as a small, increasingly familiar voice in his head wondered-  _ what was the point of Aymeric inviting him if he could hardly spare Estinien any attention? _

_ What’s the point in accepting if you know he has duties to attend to and little time for you? _

The thought makes him pause, and again he frowns- mulling over the truth behind it.

_ I want too much. More than he can offer. _

_ What more is there? _

Some moments pass, though Estinien hardly realizes how many until he’s brought from his thoughts by the passing swirl of a familiar couple as they move into a free space near the dragoon on the dance floor. The pacing of their movements is so synced and they compliment each other so damnably well that Estinien wonders if they’ve danced together before. His eyes wander up them both idly-  _ Aymeric’s wearing a new pair of gloves, white on her violet dress, making creases along her waist the way his fitted trousers crease along the back of his knee, his thigh, and even higher- _

Estinien looks away, sharply. He takes a deep breath, thinking that perhaps he should disappear before he incidentally becomes a third wheel at the end of the party, but his eyes end up traveling back to their shoes, their clothes, their faces and-

Aymeric’s blue eyes are already watching him, fixated and immediate every time he turns towards him. 

Estinien would be willing to swear that he’s not  _ blushing _ , but his face is definitely warmer than it was. He can feel it spreading under his ridiculous high necked collar each time it happens. Each time Aymeric spins his dance partner so he is facing Estinien. The back of her dress is open, drawing the eye to her skin against the dark color of her dress, just on the side of what many Ishgardian women would probably consider inappropriate. But all Estinien can focus on are those damn-  _ blue eyes _ , watching, always watching. Considering, planning, thinking-

And to make matters worse, after a few passes of staring at each other, Aymeric’s faked smile breaks into one very real, very contemplative grin that Estinien knows all too well.

_ Caught. _

He downs his drink in one go, pointedly looking anywhere but Aymeric long enough to wait for the rush of alcohol to pass.

_ What is wrong with you? _

Blessedly, when he dares another look, Aymeric has returned his focus to the girl with him, but his expression is far more open and smug than it had been the whole evening so far.


End file.
